


Of Monsters and Men

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [7]
Category: Night World - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witches, Crossover, Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Evan Lorne, Country Cream."</p><p>In the aftermath of Common Ground, Rodney and Evan have a talk about John Sheppard and monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Men

“Those are John’s favorite.”  
  
Evan glanced toward the doorway of the kitchen. Rodney stood there, pale and drawn, with heavy shadows around his eyes. He’d probably spent every waking moment at John’s bedside while he recovered from the ordeal with the Wraith.   
  
“That they are.” Evan resumed dishing the cream into a small pots for individual use. The scones were an old family recipe (family in the sense that the Lornes and the Harmans had done a blood-bonding ceremony way back when so Evan and Carson were technically cousins and Carson had written to his mother for her famous Beckett scone recipe), and it had taken him a few tries to get them right, but now they were Carson-approved. John downplayed most of the privilege he’d grown up with, but he ate continental-style, and he had a very specific sweet tooth.  
  
“Can I take them to him?”  
  
“That was the plan. I was going to radio for you when I was done.”  
  
“Where did you get that cream?” Rodney asked, prowling closer.  
  
“Milk’s standard. Had to do a bit of finagling to get it to whip, but I have my ways.” Evan set the little pots of cream on a saucer, arranged the scones in a neat circle, and placed both on a tray, which he covered. “If anyone sees them, they won’t make it to the infirmary. I made a seventh one so Carson will look the other way.”  
  
“What kind of cream is it?”  
  
“Clotted cream isn’t something I can pull off all the way out here, so...call it country cream.” Evan held out the tray. “Good luck.”  
  
“I’ll tell him you made them.”  
  
“He’ll know.”  
  
Rodney started toward the door with the tray, then paused. “I - I found out what he was pretty early on, but we never really talked about it. He fed on me to save himself after an Iratus bug tried to kill him. He was sick for days after. It feels like this one is worse.”  
  
“Well, he fed more, and he fed off of the Wraith, too. He’s not going to die. Vampires are damn tough. It’s why they live for centuries, if not millennia, despite the efforts of hunters. Think of it as really bad food poisoning.” Evan rinsed his hands, then started transferring the dirty dishes and cooking implements to the sink for washing up. “Humans are our ideal food source, but we do just fine with non-standard food sources. Some are just - worse than others.”  
  
“Have you ever eaten a human?”  
  
“What, and get executed for breaking cover? No. Mostly whatever you can find in a butcher shop. Got desperate one time and had to eat a skunk, though.”  
  
Rodney raised his eyebrows.  
  
“They’re kinda like durian. Terribly smelly till you crack them open, then surprisingly tasty. Stray dog, though. That’s what you have to watch out for. They look so sad and lonely, and they taste like, well, garbage. But when you’re hungry…” Evan shrugged.  
  
“Are you messing with me?” Rodney asked.  
  
Evan smiled at him, not nicely, a brief gleam of teeth.  
  
Rodney took a step back.  
  
Good to know he hadn’t lost his edge.  
  
Then Rodney lifted his chin, threw back his shoulders. “You were in love with him, weren’t you?”  
  
“Don’t ask, don’t tell, McKay.” Evan set the baking pan to soak, then started in on scrubbing the mixing bowls and spoons. “Although ‘were’ might be a bit of a presumptive descriptor, now that you mention it.”  
  
“I can’t apologize for something that isn’t my fault.”  
  
“Did I ask you to?”  
  
“You’re just so - angry all the time.”  
  
“Am I? How well do you really know me? Pretty sure what you’re seeing is this thing called ‘respect’, but given how much you hang around Colonel Sheppard, I can see why it might be unfamiliar to you.”

“Major -”

“I’m fine, Doc. Went home on leave, hung out with family, got spectacularly drunk, scared the hell out of some tourists on the Strip by pretending to be an escapee from Sigfried and Roy.”

Rodney missed the joke completely. “But you’re less -”

“Friendly? Familiar? He’s my commanding officer. And a Redfern, to boot. I remember my place in the world.”

Rodney frowned. “A Redfern?”

“I see he hasn’t told you much about himself.” Evan sighed. “Go, Rodney. Take him the food. I’ll be in command till he feels better, so I have to get on deck before the marines realize it’s me and not him they’ll be answering to for the next week.”

“You think it’ll take a week?”

“His body needs to burn through all the blood he’s consumed, and then it takes about three days to die of blood starvation, so...whatever you do, however he begs, don’t give in. Don’t give him any blood. He’ll try and compel you with his eyes or his mind. He has a stronger hold over you because of the silver cord. Be careful.” Evan caught Rodney’s gaze, held it. “And if you need me to spell you, I can.”

“You can watch him go through that?”

“You think this job is the worst thing I’ve done?”

Rodney huffed. “It’s certainly the worst - and best - thing I’ve ever done.”

“You walked into the Stargate program and realized there were monsters out in universe,” Evan said. “I grew up knowing there were monsters in every shadow in every corner, and I was one of them. I can sit next to a man and listen to him scream and starve and not give in when he asks for food, no matter how prettily he begs.”

“You’re not a monster, Evan.”

“Oh, but I am. We all are, every one of us with night in our veins.” Evan flicked a dismissive hand at him. “Now go, before the cream separates and you ruin all my hard work. And remember, give the seventh scone to Carson, so he looks the other way.”

Rodney left, and Evan kept cleaning, and then a call came over the radio. Fist-fight between a linguist and a marine. Marine lost. Duty called.


End file.
